


Getting Home

by mxlia



Category: D.Gray-man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 04:18:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6889681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxlia/pseuds/mxlia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected delay leads to an unexpected encounter. </p>
<p>Lavi x Reader -ish</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Home

* * *

The train is late. 

She can tell through the disgruntled grumbles of other passengers, sitting on the stone benches and leaning against the cement walls of the train station. A few teenagers - college students by the looks of it - lounge near the escalators, engrossed in the glowing screens of their smartphones, occasionally looking up to murmur something to each other or share a laugh. One of them, a boy with a pointy chin and dark hair glances up at the display board where the train times are and mutters a quiet curse. The girl standing beside him smiles and rubs his shoulder soothingly before standing on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. Whatever she says seems to calm him, for he cracks a wry smile and wraps an arm around her waist as she nuzzles up against his side contentedly, and their friends don't even bother to look up, apparently used to the display. 

Just then a new crowd of people come streaming down the escalator - business men and women in sharp, pristine suits, students with bulging backpacks, and others, nameless faces that blur into one single amorphous entity, released from the narrow confines of the escalator rails and surging into the train station. The newcomers find empty spaces along the wall to stand, avoiding occupied spaces and curious eyes. They are tired, these people - years of coming and going, of taking the train to nowhere and back has worn them thin. Even the students are not immune, their once-bright eyes glazed with the monotony that life thrust at them. Strangers, all of them, trying to get back to where they belonged.

She sees all of this from where she's standing, just outside the reach of the overhanging roof of the station. It's raining, the drops forming puddles around her feet and splashing up onto her exposed ankles. She supposes that the damp weather probably accounts for why no one else is spreading out beyond the sheltered area around the escalators, but it doesn't bother her. She has an umbrella. And besides, she prefers to be alone anyway. 

"Nice weather, right?" 

The male voice comes from beside her, and she glances up, unwilling to betray any sign of surprise. {E/c} eyes meet striking green, and she briefly registers that he's a handsome young man, before responding. "Not really." 

"Then why are you standing all alone in the rain?" He smiles crookedly before taking her umbrella from her hand, holding it up straight so that it shields them both. 

She raises an eyebrow at him. "I didn't say you could join me." 

"No, you didn't," he responds agreeably. "But I figured I could at least help a pretty girl shield herself from the elements. Leaning the handle up against your shoulder may look pretty in a picture and all, but it sure as hell doesn't help you stay dry." 

Immediately defensive, she tries to snatch the umbrella back, but he proves too strong for her. "I don't do it to look pretty in a picture," she protests, a petulant look crossing her face. 

"Sure you do," he says knowingly, offering her another smile before glancing down the tracks to see any incoming trains. "Fourteen more minutes." 

She nods stiffly, and they stand there in silence for a while. She takes the opportunity to observe the strange young man beside her, noting the dark red tufts of hair sticking out haphazardly from beneath a black cap. His green eyes are sharp and inquisitive, betraying an intellect far greater than he let on, despite the faded jeans and leather jacket he wore. He's interesting, she decides. But at the same time, she also decides that she wouldn't trust him with anything so much as returning a library book on time. 

"You're staring," he points out, and she almost jumps at the sudden remark. 

"Staring out into space, yes," she amends, recovering quickly. 

"You have a name?" he asks, seeming to let her fib go. 

"Yes." She offers no other information, and he sighs. They lapse into silence again, and both are content not to break it until the delayed train rolls up to the station. 

"That's my ride," she murmurs when it comes to a full stop, exhaling like some great beast of old. 

"I figured," he replies, already beginning to walk toward the open doors. "Shall we?" He extends his hand to help her step onto the train, and she hesitantly takes it, climbing aboard and scanning for empty seats. He follows her on, shaking out the wet umbrella to the distaste of several other passengers around him. Then he closes it up neatly, handing it to her and offering her another crooked grin. She looks up at him, wondering why he wasn't sitting down in the seat she had purposely left empty beside her. He answers the unasked question in the next second though, when he turns around and heads for the door. 

"Wrong train?" she asks, not sure why she cares all of a sudden. 

"Yep," he replies, hooking his thumbs into his pockets. "For me, at least. I'm going in the other direction." He nods at the track on the opposite side of the platform and cracks another smile. 

"Well," she begins, reluctant to show the strange, nagging disappointment gnawing at her insides. "You wouldn't want to miss your ride then." 

"That'd be bad," he agrees. 

A beat of silence. She fiddles with her umbrella absentmindedly, glancing at the rain-splattered window beside her. 

Then the young man clears his throat, drawing her attention back to him. "I'll see you around," he says, and the way he states it, so confidently, almost sounds like a promise. Then he hops off the train, whistling a cheery tune as he walks back toward the station, unfazed by the raindrops soaking through his clothes. The doors close behind him. 

She watches him leave, bemused by the whole encounter with the mysterious young man who'd regarded her so warmly with his crooked grin and intelligent eyes. Just as her train begins to pull away, however, he glances back and meets her gaze, giving her a small wave of acknowledgment. She stares at him, fingers still unconsciously fiddling with the umbrella in her hands when she hears a quiet rustle. Glancing down, she spots a bit of paper peeking out from the folds of the umbrella. Dislodging it, she smooths the scrap out before reading what is written on it, a smile spreading across her face as she does. 

The train is picking up speed, but if she cranes her neck, she can still see him. Right before the bend in the tracks, she manages to catch his eye again. And she waves, the slip of paper clutched in her hand. 

Written on it in neat, looping cursive, is a name and a number. 

Right below it: 

_I'll see you around._


End file.
